


Mutual Respect

by Mitth



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:34:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitth/pseuds/Mitth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not sure if I fleshed out the changes in their relationship well enough; might've focused too much on the action. My intention was to show their begrudging relationship turning into mutual respect. Some parts also seem a bit jumpy or not deep enough; dialogue could most likely be improved. Hope it's not too bad....</p></blockquote>





	Mutual Respect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vociferocity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vociferocity/gifts).



_            Roight, here we are. Just you. Me. And a gun. _The muzzle glided smoothly to the right, crosshairs tailing a bulky character silhouetted against the sky ablaze in brilliant red-orange. His thick arms, taut by his sides, hung on to a crate each, almost effortlessly as he steadily moved across the horizon. A pause, his turned head, contrasted against the dimming sky like a stork looking back, profile where ‘+’ marks the spot. _Beeeeautiful._ Sniper’s finger tightened around the crescent trigger, his arms anticipating the recoil.

            However, instead of pulling, he spontaneously swung the rifle out, slamming its side against the dark figure approaching his right. Driving the figure back with a thrust, Sniper leapt on the man with balled fists. “Thought you could stab me in the back like my mate, huh?” Punch, miss. “Didn’t think I heard you creep-creeping along ‘round there?” One of his hands was going for the machete when the visitor’s modulated voice registered in his ears.

            “A bit paranoid, aren’t we?”

            Sniper paused, narrowed eyes staring intently at the other. In a ray of dying sun, he could barely make out the crimson mask covering the other’s features, framing amber eyes and a smoking cigarette. “Better paranoid than dead, mate.” He contemptuously got off, stepping aside to take up his perch again. “Maybe if you weren’t slinking around all the time, like some…”

            “Spy? But I am.”

            “…sure. What brings you to these here parts anyway?”

            Spy gave the other a considering look. “Scout has been taken hostage.”

            “And?”

            “Someone should rescue him. Namely, two someones.”

            “Look, mate, as flattered as I am by your…flattery, surely Soldier or Heavy would enjoy it more. And there’s no way I’m trusting a two-timing spy.”

            “My loyalty will be the least of your worries when BLU discovers our hideout. You don’t think Scout’ll talk?” Spy’s eyes widened, boring into Sniper’s. “Maybe not at first, yes, but when they torture him? Starve him? Three days, and he’ll tell everything for a sandwich.” With hands clasped behind his back, Spy continued, “We don’t have the firepower, the numbers, to invade. We need to infiltrate. Brains, not brawn. The others will simply draw attention to themselves.”

            Sniper looked up thoughtfully. “A maze of corridors’s no place for a sniper rifle.”

            “All that would be required of you is surveillance. Mount an abandoned water tower, watch who goes in and out of the holding cells. I’ll take care of inside operations. Good?”

            A slow, reluctant nod. “Right-o, mate.”

            “Very well then, come dawn, meet me beneath your nest here.”

 

* * *

            Under the cover of lifting night, two early birds could be seen, ascending the rungs of a rusted, long empty water tower to claim the lofty platform.

            “There’s their storeroom, feeding into the cafeteria and the mess hall. They’ll disperse from there about…now”—here, a mass of bodies filtered out from the squat square building Spy motioned to—“and head to their stations.” As he continued to point out the general posts, the crowd beyond began to thin, singular points splitting off towards the indicated locations. “You’ll be watching there, and updating, via two-way comm., who else to expect.” Spy directed his forefingers to the narrow, rectangular concrete slab. “I trust you will not fire needlessly and alert them.”

            “’Course.” Sniper mock saluted with his rifle as he watched Spy descend and melt into the shade. Sniper shook his head and scoped in to follow. Mechanical defenses went out with displays of crackling electricity. Those encountered unwary were silently taken out for less obstruction later.

 

_Well, well, what have we here?_ Faint whistling, accompanied by aluminum on metal ringing discordantly down the hallway—the same noisemaking that so annoyed his Petit Chou-Fleur. Crouched behind a stack of boxes, Spy waited for the oblivious footsteps just around the corner.

* * *

            “Medic! Medic!” BLU Scout ran down the halls calling frantically. Skidding around one of the many corridor corners, he almost collided with, who else but Medic.

            “What appears to be the problem?” the doctor cooed, his consonants tinged with a faint German accent.

            “Look, you gotta help me. I was roundin’ this corner, right? The one with all the boxes I kept sayin’ should be cleaned up? Yeah, well, as I turned the corner, swinging my bat for fun, and in case ya know, one of those metal tiles fell and cut me! Look!” Scout dramatically held out his finger.

            “Where? I see no blood,” Medic quietly scoffed, diligently turning the finger over in the light, eyes searching for a wound.

            “You will now,” informed a cold voice, no longer Scout’s, as Spy’s other hand plunged a knife into the medic’s back. A few moments later, “Medic” strolled past the lookout station, saluting the engineer there.

 

            _Look at ‘im go_, Sniper thought as his crosshairs followed Spy through a series of windows and trajectory estimates. _Cross the courtyard, entering the prison. Stakeout time._

            “Heavy entering, carrying his weapon—wonder if his is named Sasha too. Uup, ‘e left after a peek. Must’ve got the wrong door.”

            “Soldier crossing courtyard, looks like barracks for him, probably to bully some poor recruits.”

            “Uuh, battered Scout crawling out of storeroom, backdoor. Getting sloppy, mate?” Sniper pulled the trigger. “Took care of ‘im for ya.”

            “You rather seem to be enjoying this one-sided conversation,” Spy’s faint words brushed his eardrums.

            “If I’ve got to talk, no point in being dry. Demoman entering, by the way, looking tipsy already.”

 

* * *

            As morning settled in, things settled down. No visible movement from Sniper’s loft, and only the faint buzz of static from Spy’s comm., interrupted by the occasional creek of a door or a terse greeting. Then, something inaudible from a gruff voice, jingling keys, a soft click, and a scream.

            _Crikey_. Sniper winced as the line went dead. The question of whether to leave Spy was never an option for him, having standards and all, but the thought did cross his mind. Rifle slung over across his back, he slid down the ladder and crept into the base via the path he had traced Spy through, figuring it would be less populated. However, where Spy had his cloaking device, Sniper had to substitute with submachine gun. It was not as stealthy. _Gonna have to find another way out_, he mentally noted as footsteps rushed to where his just were.

            Slinking past the prison walls, he was pulled into a storage space, where Spy crouched among the ration packs, apparently cleaning his butterfly blade.

            “Blimey, mate,” Sniper whispered. “You didn’t do him in, did you?”

            “No, we had a, shall we say, misunderstanding.” Spy flicked open his cigarette case and lit up, observing the other’s reaction before illuminating, “He’s drawing them away from the briefcase and away from our exit point. What are you doing here?”

            “Thought you needed to backup.” Sniper tapped the other’s smashed mouthpiece, figuring it was part of the ‘misunderstanding’ with Scout. “You’re hiding, why?”

            “I heard you coming, and if I had been quick to kill, like you, you would be dead. Let us go before more footsteps come.”

* * *

“Intruder alert, intruder alert. RED in base. Intruder alert…”

            Explosions urged the pair forward, darting through the halls, the searing heat licking their backs. Bullets whizzed by, barely missing limbs, as they swerved around corners. Frontal confrontation was silenced by a revolver round or the scatter-spray of submachine lead. A chorus of curses saw them out into the courtyard as Spy flicked his smoldering cigarette into a stockpile of explosives.

            They erratically zigzagged across the pavement, Sniper following Spy, through a rain of projectiles. At the sight of a red dot flitting about the latter, Sniper loaded his rifle. A quick angle calculation and survey of possible perches sent his BLU counterpart tumbling from the second story.

            Inside, they slammed into a reinforced steel door, beyond which they could see freedom. Frantic fingers felt for a latch, a release, a crack. No dice.

            “Dead end, mate.” Sniper adjusted his hat. “What now?”

            Spy turned around, eyes solemnly settling on the other. “You’re hit.”

            “This?” The hand wrapped across Sniper’s abdomen twitched. “Nah, it’s nothing.”

            “It’s serious.”

            “I’m not dying in this rabbit hole.”

            “Then we better find another way out.” Spy’s gaze returned to the wall. Drawing his revolver, he pumped several rounds into one of the squat windows, loftily positioned on either side of the door. Broken glass tinkled melodiously outside.

            “We’re not going to be able to reach that, mate. Too high.”

            “Too high for any one of us alone, but both…” Spy knelt and motioned for the other to get on his shoulders.

            “Then how’re you getting out?”

            “Recall, I’m a spy. Now, we don’t have much time.”

            Reluctantly, somewhat awkwardly, Sniper clambered onto Spy’s back and hoisted himself onto the window ledge with his unoccupied hand. Spy handed him the briefcase. “See you on the other side, mate.” He let go and landed on the dirt. As opposed to returning to headquarters, however, he hauled himself onto a nearby tree, disregarded the pain in his side, balanced his rifle on a knee, and got comfy.

 

Soon enough, RED Spy was running from the base. _There we are. Safe and sou—eh?_ Midway between Sniper’s tree and the base, a scarlet-clad, masked man tackled Spy. The latter attempted to wrench the former’s knife from him, struggling to get away while arming his own. A cloud of dust enveloped the two figures; a revolver slid out of reach, stopping against a booted foot. _Ka-click_, the hammer cocked.

            “Don’t move.” Sniper pointed the magnum at one, then the other. “Now which one of you is a Builder?” Identical, conflicting voices rose and fell, pointing out the other’s supposed flaw, not so unlike a poorly remixed song—soon silenced by a shot. Spy got up. “How could you tell?”

            “My footprint gave you away,” he motioned to Spy’s shoulder, where a boot’s pattern could lightly be seen, and returned his revolver. Sniper began walking, paused, and glanced over his shoulder. “What I don’t understand, mate, is why you hung around when you could’ve just disappeared on me in there.”

            “The same reason you waited for me, I presume.”

            They exchanged respectful looks. The duo walked back to HQ in silence, one’s arm slung over the other’s shoulder for support as light-headedness set in.

 

~ ~ ~

 

**Epilogue.**

            Sniper touched his collar. “Watch your right, mate. Third window. He’s crouching behind some boxes. Can’t get a clean shot.” He pulled the trigger several times, sweeping across the panorama. “Should be all clear to the vault now—least that I can see through the windows.” More rounds, spent shells fell from his rifle, dispatching those around slinking Spy like some mystical, unseen force.

            “Don’t go back the way you came, mate, unless you’re a fan of stickies. Sniper territory out front; Scout heading towards you. Any bright ideas?” From his vantage point, Sniper could see Spy flick his wrist twice and smirked. “Gotcha, mate.”

 

As “Scout” sped out in the open, Sniper inched towards the corner and began shooting misses. Sure enough, BLU Sniper’s bullets began pelting the boards of his hideout as opposed to the pavement disguised Spy ran across. _Nothing like feinting shots to quell suspicions. Well, maybe teamwork._ __

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I fleshed out the changes in their relationship well enough; might've focused too much on the action. My intention was to show their begrudging relationship turning into mutual respect. Some parts also seem a bit jumpy or not deep enough; dialogue could most likely be improved. Hope it's not too bad....


End file.
